by Isabel Wroth
“Didn’t tell you he’d wired your place, huh?” Gage chuckled.
Ripley was positively fuming. Embarrassed, frightened, offended, saddened. The list went on. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, hoping to still the quiver of her lips. Hoping to conceal the way her eyes filled with tears again. She was really done with this whole crying over Saint problem she’d acquired.
“No. He did not.”
“If it makes you feel any better, looks like it’s just video.”
“Nope. Doesn’t make me feel better.” Ripley put her glass of tea down and ducked back into the house. Into the entry way closet and curled her hand around the Louisville Slugger she’d bought herself after hearing Athena talk about her ex. How she’d been able to get the asshole down the first time with a bat.
Ripley figured if a tiny little thing like Athena could incapacitate a man as big as her ex had been, so could she. This was the first time Ripley had found an opportunity to use the bat, and honestly, it felt really, really good to vent some of her upset onto the probably very expensive camera.
Satisfying, the way it shattered into a million pieces upon meeting her bat. Gage busted up laughing behind her like he’d just witnessed the funniest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
“If he wasn’t on his way already, he will be for sure now.” Gage warned.
“Excellent.” She swung again, just to make sure it was dead, then collected the biggest pieces and put them in the trashcan right inside her front door. “I could use more batting practice.”
Gage choked around an ice cube, still laughing, and set his drained glass down on the table between their chairs. Stretched his long legs out in front of him to give her a penetrating, thoughtful stare when she sat back down.
“You talked to Ever and the rest of your posse yet? Not really sensing the level of pissed off you women get after cahooting about what assholes men are.”
Ripley narrowed her eyes at him, making his lips continue to twitch up. It was sick, how his teasing grin just made him more boyish and innocent looking.
“No. I have not…cahooted.”
Gage nodded thoughtfully, lacing his fingers over his stomach while he got comfortable. Not looking worried at all that Saint might be on his way, or how he might react to finding Gage on her porch.
“Lemme guess, you’re feeling conflicted, and not sure they’ll be objective because they come attached to Saint’s brothers.”
“Something like that.”
Truth be told, she didn’t want to talk to Ever about it at all. When Ever had introduced her to Saint, it had been clear Ever really liked him as a person. Really liked seeing Ripley with him, and had this idea they were the perfect couple. Ripley didn’t want to talk to Athena about it either, because she liked Saint too.
Raid and Roar were close as actual brothers to Saint, so she’d get no help from them either. Ripley didn’t have anyone else except her Gram who she could go to to talk about this. Downside was, if she told Gram, she’d be down here in a heartbeat, meddling. Which might be the worst thing ever right now.
Ripley could see it play out in horrifying detail.
If she called her Gram, the eighty seven year old woman would be in her beat up Mary Kay Cadillac with all her nosy ass friends in tow, before Ripley could say, Boo. They would descend upon her house, bemoan the state of her throw pillow selection, whip out their coupon books and insist they take her shopping at Dillards.
There was probably a sale on, so no doubt the haul might be worth it, but no. No. Bad idea. Grams might talk her into a whole new towel set, or getting another set of dishes and flatware Ripley didn’t need.
Ripley was named after the old fruit bat, and she loved her Grams dearly, especially as she was the only family Ripley had left. Ripley knew without a doubt if she called and said she was upset and needing advice, Grams would have a list of comforting things to tell her over a slice of her signature custard pie. The general theme being, All Men Are Pigs.
But in all honesty, there was just no room for more drama in Ripley’s life. Maybe when it calmed down, she could call Grams and invite her to bring her ‘gaggle of hags’ down to the spa. So, it appeared Gage was the only option available to her right now.
“I hope you’ll forgive me for asking, but as you seem have an idea of where I’m at right now, what exactly are you hoping to gain from this?”
Gage didn’t look offended at all. In fact his smile softened on her. “Truth be told, I know Saint pretty well. Like the guy a lot. We have some history together.”
Seeking to cover up the irrational bubble of anger that flared, Ripley tried to crack a joke. “You don’t exactly strike me as his type.”
Gage chuckled ruefully, rubbing at the back of his neck while his cheeks warmed just a touch. He leaned forward to set his elbows on his knees. The position made his shoulders seem broader, more muscular than they were. For a second Ripley took a breath to appreciate the view. Bikers. What was it about them that was so damn appealing?
“I know me being here seems suspicious. Believe me, if I thought I had a shot with you, I’d go full steam ahead. Maybe things won’t work out with you and Saint. Maybe he’ll be an idiot and few months down the line. I’d be more than happy to give it a shot at being a one woman man for you. But like I said, we got history, and I owe Saint a debt.”
Ripley arched a brow up at him and took a breath to roll an ice cube over her tongue. Hoping to cool the hot words that wanted to flow, before she said something she’d regret saying to someone she didn’t know.
“I don’t see how you showing up and creating conflict between the two of you, would be considered paying a debt.”
Gage grinned then. It was one of those grins that had she been interested in the least, might have made her belly flop. As it was, her pulse did kick up a notch.
“Men get territorial, Lady. We think someone’s horning in on what’s ours, and we come out swinging. Pissing in corners to make sure no one mistakes just where the boundaries lie.”
It took Ripley a moment to understand what he was saying, and when she did, the lid on her temper rattled as she started to simmer.
“I’m not a fire hydrant.”
“See, you’re getting mad now. That’s good. Feel like getting even?” Gage’s brows bounced up and down enticingly.
Ripley snorted. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
Gage roared with laughter, reaching over to take her hand. He even went so far as to lift it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. Rubbed that kind of sweet kiss in with his roughly callused thumb.
“Flattered that your brain went there, but that’s not what I meant. When was the last time you two went for a ride?”
Ripley blinked, confused and a little bit offended that Gage was asking about her sex life. It must have shown, because he shook his head slowly and leered at her a little.
“A bike ride, Lady.”
Blushing clear to the roots of her hair, Ripley looked away from his dark eyes to where his big motorcycle sat gleaming in her driveway.
“Um, never.”
“Never?” he sounded surprised.
“Never.” She repeated, rolling her shoulder.
“Then lets go for a ride.” Gage gave her hand a little wiggle.
“Right now?”
“Yeah.”
Truth be told, Ripley had been dying to know what it felt like. Ever and Athena raved about how fun it was. How much they loved putting their arms around their men to hold on tight while they roared down the street. The one time Ripley would have had the opportunity to ride with Saint, when he’d come to get her for Ever’s baby shower, he suggested they take her car. She hadn’t argued.
She had been wearing a dress, so at the time Ripley thought that he was just being considerate or something. Ripley was wearing a dress now, and Gage just shrugged when she pointed out that obvious fact.
“Just be careful not to melt the ends of your heels on the tailpipe and you’ll be fine.
We’ll just go for a cruise to clear your head. Grab some friends only lunch and cahoot.”
Ever hadn’t reacted negatively towards Gage at all. Had straight up told Ripley if she’d been interested in just sex, he was pretty good. Which Ever wouldn’t have done if she didn’t trust Gage was a good guy where it counted. Right? So what the hell?
“Okay. Let me just get my purse.”
Gage was waiting for her next to her car when she came out with a little cross body purse for her keys and stuff. When Ripley frowned at him curiously, he chuckled and bent down to run his hands under the drivers side wheel well. Moving around to all four wells until he came up with a little black box, from the passenger side.
“What is that?”
Gage wiggled the thing at her and then tossed it up onto the roof of the house.“GPS tracker. We do it for our women too, safety precaution. But they know about it. Honestly going to enjoy messing with Saint about this.”
Ripley fumed. Imagining with vicious glee, how it would feel to kill Saint with her baseball bat. Gage chuckled all the way over to his bike. He threw a muscular leg over and held his a hand out to her, giving her a smile and a squeeze when she took it. Gage instructed her how to climb on, where to put her feet, where it was okay to hold onto him.
“I’d prefer if you’d wrap your arms around me. For safety reasons, of course.” he winked. His expression suggesting he would enjoy it for a few more reasons than just safety.
Ripley shook her head at him, scooting closer on the leather seat and pressed herself up against his back. She felt him growl in reaction before giving himself a shake. With a flick of his wrist, he started up his bike.
It felt like a lion roaring to life between her legs.
“Don’t do that thing and drive fast to scare me.” she yelled over the noise.
Gage took one of her hands to kiss. “I promise I won’t. You good?”
“Yes.”
Ripley hugged him tighter as she inhaled the odd mix of tobacco, leather, sweat, and motor oil on his collar. Saint smelled almost exactly the same, only there was something missing. Something better. Ripley forced herself not to think about him right now, the exhilaration of finally getting to ride on a motorcycle was too much to taint with her regrets. It was going to be fun, even if she’d been dreaming about riding behind Saint, and not Gage.
One block, and she was in love with the sensation. The wind whipping at her hair, the feel of it on her skin and how it cooled the heat of the sun on her body. Gage barked out a laugh suddenly, and she looked to see Ever’s bright green Jeep pull up across the street at a stop sign.
Ripley also saw the open mouthed look of shock plain on Ever’s face as Gage rode by with Ripley behind him. Ripley saw Ever’s lips move in an obvious, ‘what the fuck?’ Ripley just shrugged, waved a little and quickly put her arm back around Gage when he sped off.
Ripley was confident that by the time they got wherever they were going, she’d have a bajillion missed calls.
CHAPTER THREE
Gage took her to a cute little mexican café outside the city and was a perfect gentleman.
Well, maybe not perfect. He definitely flirted with her, but more in a, brother-from-another-mother, kind of way. He ordered chicken and beef fajitas and ate only the fajita part. Not the tortillas. Not the rice or the beans.
He didn’t even touch the chips and salsa on the table. Ripley asked him how he lived with himself, not eating chips and salsa. Gage lifted his shirt to show her his perfect eight pack.
“You don’t get muscle definition like this, eating carbs. Strict protein diet, Lady. All the better to satisfy the other ladies.”
Ripley rolled her eyes at him. But those abs…no lie, she could have washed laundry on the cobbled board of muscle. They talked about basic stuff for the first half of lunch, his attentiveness making her feel less worn out and ragged. Gage waited until after she’d ordered herself a hot fudge sundae, to start talking about her deal with Saint.
“So, cahoot. What’s going through your head?”
Ripley had her spoon upside down in her mouth, ice cream melting on her tongue, probably looking like a deer in the headlights. Gage studiously watched her lick the spoon clean, shook himself, then lifted his eyes to hers and gave a winning smile.
“Oral fixation.” he explained. Like a pervy younger brother might.
“Ass.”
“Man.” he rebutted, and she was unable to dispute that fact.
Ripley took a deep breath, staring into her ice cream dish. Stirring the melting treat around and around until it was soup. Delicious ice cream soup that was no doubt responsible for the verbal barf session she indulged in at Gage’s invitation.
“I just don’t understand what it is about me that says, ‘only good for sex’ or, ‘sucker for a good excuse.’ I’m not a horrible person. I’m not clingy. Maybe a little addicted to memes, but who doesn’t think a good Jean Luc Picard meme is awesome? I have a job, I’m not a freeloader, I don’t go running around waving my panties at anyone who’ll take them.
“The excuse I hear most often from men is that I’m too good. Or too intimidating. Or they talk me out of dating them because they know, they’re not what I’m looking for. After one or two dates! What the hell is that? Then there’s Saint. He shows up in the middle of the night, stays, then leaves before I wake up.
“I don’t hear from him at all for days to months on end. He won’t talk to me. Won’t answer my texts. Goes out to work, which I totally get and have no issue with, then comes back to use me as his soul shower when shit gets too heavy. He said that, that he comes to me to get washed clean. What does that even mean?
“Then I stop texting him, because what’s the point if he doesn’t answer? He takes off work early shows up at a bar and does the Neanderthal chest beating, ‘my woman’ thing, ruins girls night out, and gets all surprised that I’m upset?
“I was okay with the fuck and run arrangement in the beginning. That changed for me, I tried to tell him, but he doesn’t seem to want to do anything other than shut me up and get me naked.”
Ripley huffed, tossed her spoon into the bowl, and sat back. Burning with a mix of hurt, embarrassment, and total dejection. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic! Whining about this to a total stranger. Gage cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table top, leaning forward instead of trying to run away or look for an escape from her.
“I can break that down, no problem. You are a beautiful woman. You dress like every guy’s pin up wet dream and have the mannerisms to back it up. You’re the kind of woman you bring home to mom. Yeah?
“Those guys who tell you you’re intimidating, are intimidated because you don’t need them. You’ve got a job, a way to support yourself, and the brains to do it. Insecure as they are, you aren’t the sort of woman to buy their shit and take care of them like mommy would.
“They tell you you’re too good, because you are, and they’re actually in a weird way trying to do you a favor. The ones who talk you out of more dates, chances are you didn’t put out. They had to make an effort and it was just too much for their expectation level, which is not really a reflection on you. And Saint? Well, that’s a little more complicated.”
Ripley snorted derisively at that last bit. Saint being complicated wasn’t anything she didn’t already know.
Gage wasn’t deterred, he kept right on talking. “I can say beyond shadow of a doubt, he called you his woman and he meant it. He wouldn’t have attempted to beat my ass with my brothers’ right there if he didn’t.”
Well, that hardly made her feel better.
“Can’t say why he leaves your bed without letting you at the very least, saying goodbye. I’d have a hell of a time tearing myself away. No lie. Not tryin to be a dick, but if I got you in my bed, we’d stay there until one of us was dying to either pee, or I needed to eat something other than you.”
Ripley’s face turned bright pink, unable to help the mental image of Gage naked. Or herself, nake
d with Gage. It wasn’t a bad picture either.
“If a guy tells you, you wash him clean, that’s a big freakin deal. You don’t get that from random pussy. You need to have a connection to someone to need them to make you feel whole again. A serious connection. With emotions and shit.”
“That’s great. But he leaves me to deal with all the shit he just washed off himself, alone.”
“You tell him that?”
“Last night.”
“He leave?”
“Yeah. I kind of screamed at him.”
“Good.”
Her brows went up, because how was losing control and screaming at Saint, a good thing? She asked, and Gage chuckled. Reached across the table to give her fisted hands a squeeze.
“Guys aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed sometimes. Most times. So every now and again, you gotta kick us in the ass and make us pay attention. If you text him regularly, the kind of regular he can rely on, even if he doesn’t reply, and then stop? That’s a clue all is not well. You been having a thing with him for how long?”
Ripley let her shoulder roll, emotions still churning inside her. “A year and a half, give or take.”
“You been to the Perdition compound with him?”
“I was invited by Ever a few times. Saint appropriated me after he got over the surprise of seeing me there.”
“Appropriated?”
She shrugged again, feeling that frustrating press of tears again. “Swept me off my feet and made me feel special. Treated me like his girlfriend, you know? He was really sweet and showed me there was another side to him than what I got to see in my bedroom. Things changed for me about then, and it didn’t for him. I made more out of it than it obviously was.”
“Don’t think you did. Sorry, sweetheart. My Prez.” his apology came after he shifted to reach into his cut to pull out his ringing cell phone.
She ate her ice cream soup and tried not to eavesdrop, but the way Gage was staring at her, sort of involved her in the conversation.
“S’up Prez? Busy? Sort of. Havin lunch with a lady.” Gage winked at her. “Saint’s on the phone, crawling up your ass about me overstepping and talking to his woman?”